


dry heaving promises

by pluvieux



Category: Poetry - Fandom
Genre: M/M, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6264592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvieux/pseuds/pluvieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if it's not fandom related no one will truly feel the pull to read it it but hey this will most likely end up as a scenario of "hey im alone but i'll shout these words to the empty auditorium"</p>
            </blockquote>





	dry heaving promises

maybe i should've called this, "how to cry," because then maybe someone would give me an answer. the reason i'm wondering is that the metaphorical wound on my back just stings in juts of consistent, humming destruction of genuine enthusiasm + then there's the time when i'm lying on my bed, + it feels like there's a frog in my throat + my eyes feel like they're about to water + i'm like yes, finally, but then i d o n ' t

crying is healthy, i know it is, + i know i'd feel so much better if i just would cry already, but my body refuses.

should've called this "my first actual acknowledgement of the fact that i need a shoulder" because i'm so caught up in what people think of me that i don't even DARE to show that i'm genuinely unhappy but instead pass off suicidal tendencies as edgy jokes because depression is ANNOYING + excruciatingly BORING + i refuse to be that person because i'm the life of the party all day every day 

don't read that as "youre only saying that" because i highly dislike when people are upset + i lack empathy when it comes to 95% of the people who come to me

i don't care about it, i just want to distract myself from my own depression + your exclamations about yours will get nowhere with me, save for a post tyler, the creator whipped up onto facebook

should've called this "don't get me wrong" 

should've called this "i'm my very own glass case of emotion"

should've called this "sos"

should've called this "pessimistic optimism has flooded my brain" because i used to be so excited about everything but now i'm scared that every word + action i do is being picked apart like a vulture to a fresh carcass 

should've called this "scattered thoughts" 

back to the main point

my body just shudders when i inhale + i sigh when i exhale, then i repeat, the lump in my throat making me feel mad sick + even though i'd feel so much better, my body won't let me cry, won't let me fall into a good sleep

this has never happened before

i've never felt so betrayed

i barely feel excitement because i'm so dang paranoid because of you + everyone you talk to

you promised not to let unwelcome eyes meet + i didn't hear it snap when it got broken but i felt it in due time, when that one tiny crack in my trust egged me to ask,

i shouldn't have learned not to trust anyone, that's the wrong moral to take in from that little ordeal but it's a handy one, a reminder for me to keep my mouth shut, a reminder that silence is golden + everything i say can + will be used against me

called this "dry heaving promises" because no matter my body heaves my body won't grant me release

your words of solitude were that of vain

**Author's Note:**

> don't base off of this i can write better i swear give me a chance


End file.
